Who I am Now
by AFandomofmanyFaces
Summary: When Rich has to move in with Michael, will he finally gain some friends? Written from Jeremy/Michael/Rich POV intermittently. Michael/Rich. Jeremy/Christine.
1. Exposition

"Michael!" Jeremy called down the hall as soon as he saw his friend's headphone cord trailing out behind the boy. His friend turned around, so as usual he wasn't actually listening to music; Jeremy swore he just wore those things for decoration.

"Whazzup?" Michael did some fancy footwork as he spun around to look Jeremy dead in the eyes, and then started laughing.

"What?" Jeremy asked defensively. "Do I have something in my hair?" Michael couldn't say anything but shake his head. "C'mon, Michael, this isn't very funny."

Michael caught his breath enough to calm himself down before he replied. "Bro, you have a hickey."

Jeremy could feel his face grow a beet red. "Wha-I mean-that is-where?" His voice was weak. Honestly, the only thing he wanted was to sink through the floor.

"Dude," Michael clapped him on the back. "It's all good. When a guy gets a hickey, it's cool. If you were a girl, that's a different story. Rumor has it Elizabeth had ten hickeys and Jenna couldn't stop talking about it until the whole senior year knew." He rolled his eyes. "I'm just jealous of the dude who got to give her those hickeys."

He paused for a moment, probably imagining Elizabeth with ten dudes, before he said, "Anyways, spill! Who gave you that bad boy?"

The two boys started going down the hall towards their lockers as the bell signaling the beginning of fourth period began. Jeremy turned his head sharply to make sure his friend was joking. "Who do you think? Christine…who else would it be?"

"Just checking," Michael ducked, holding his hands up in surrender as Jeremy swung his backpack at him.

As they turned into the hallway that led to Jeremy and Michael's classes, they almost ran into some juniors that were leaning up against the lockers, all of them enamored with one person.

"Yo, what's up?" The cocky boy sauntered over to them and boldly placed himself between the dynamic duo.

"Hey, Rich," Michael shifted a little to the right to allow room for the shorter dude. "We were just on our way to class. Still hitting it with the ladies?"

Rich snorted, "Hell, I don't need a squip to get the bunnies, boys." He smiled before continuing. "All you need is a little self-confidence and a whole lot of swagger. Just watch," and without any more introduction, he veered to the left and placed himself squarely in front of a curvy brunette who was busy applying lipstick in front of a mirror on her locker door.

Jeremy stopped to see what would happen, but Michael kept walking, so he changed his mind and ran to catch up to his friend.

"Didn't you want to see if Rich had 'moves' without a squip?" Jeremy did, and he was slightly disappointed he couldn't laugh at Rich's face when he inevitably slipped and fell on his face. Rich may have become his friend, but Jeremy was slightly sadistic.

Before Michael could respond, Jeremy felt a hand slip into his and he looked down to see the only face he ever liked to look at smiling up at him.

"Christine!" He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. If you asked Jeremy, there was no feeling like it. If you asked Michael, there was also no feeling like it, except the feeling he was experiencing wasn't good.

"Hey, I thought I'd see you real quick before I went to my study hour." She made a face, indicating how she truly felt about spending 50 minutes straight with Ms. Bradshaw. Jeremy stooped down and kissed her forehead, causing her to wrinkle it more. "I wish you had study hour, too," she whined.

"Me, too. I wish I didn't have to take math at all, honestly. But I've skipped enough classes that I will get detention if I go to study hour with you instead of going to Pre-calc. I'll see you soon, though, Christine."

"Later, Jeremy," Christine smiled, giving her boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek before running down a hallway to the right.

Michael pretended to gag. "You two are absolutely disgusting." Jeremy blushed. "It's a good thing she didn't add to your hickey…" Michael danced out of the way into his classroom while Jeremy swung at him with his backpack. "Ha, missed! See you in an hour, Heere!"

The bell rang just as Michael found his seat near the back right corner of the classroom. There was no assigned seating, but he sat in the same chair every day anyways, because he enjoyed not being near the front. It allowed him to listen to music without the teacher getting too upset. Mr. Hawes was always too busy yelling at the front row students to notice him.

Rich sauntered in, filling the chair right next to Michael.

"Did you do it?" Michael asked.

"Do—what?" Rich looked confused, as though Michael had just asked him what the capital of Uganda was.

"Did you manage to get Mandy to like you?" He figured as much; Mandy had had a crush on Rich ever since he got squipped. It would have taken a very big dumbass to mess with those odds.

"Oh, _that_ was her name? Actually, I didn't hit on her. I was just making a show of it cause I knew Heere was still skeptical of my abilities. I don't like Mandy-or-whatever-her-name-is and I don't ask girls out I am not interested in at least sleeping with."

"How nice." Michael grimaced as he turned, actually trying to pay attention to the teacher for once.

"Hey, if you don't like them, you don't want to waste their time," Rich explained defensively. Michael continued to ignore him. Rich gave up trying to get Michael's attention and settled doodle on the paper he should have been writing notes on for their relatively boring class.


	2. Learning to Cope

Rich's POV

Shit. I can't draw shit.

I look down at the tree I was doodling, and didn't look like a tree at all. It looked more like a dick than anything.

I half expected someone to speak to me, telling me my drawing did look like a dick, but that was ok, cause that's what's expected of me. Only gay guys draw anything but dicks on the margins of their papers.

But that voice was no longer there. I don't really remember how it was removed. I just remember a headache intense enough that made me want to smoke weed (I hate the smell of weed) and the uncomfortable feeling that my very-much-male doctor was really cute but I didn't know that that feeling was attraction until like the third night when I woke up in a sweat after a rather vivid dream that ended with our limbs intertwined, and my mouth ended up on his…there was a lot of tongue involved, too, if I remember right.

I told Jeremy, after he ended up in the bed next to mine. Jeremy came to the hospital, like the day after I was rescued from the fire. He had the same symptoms I did, so I guess he lost his squip shortly after I did. Although I sometimes miss the little guy, not having evil Kermit looking over my shoulder all the time is kind of freeing. I had asked Jeremy what his squip looked like; lucky bastard had Keanu Reeves. Dude might not be the best actor in the world, but at least he's human.

Anyways, I told Jeremy I was bi in a fit of courage only a near-death experience can bring. But now I'm not sure if I'm completely bi. I mean I've only ever dated girls. Dreaming about making out with a man is different than actually being with one right? Also, my parents would hate me more than they do now if they found out I liked dudes. I shouldn't accept that identity until I actually see another man's penis. Right?

Right?!

_c_.

Jeremy had more visitors than I did. After the third day spent in the hospital, I began to feel a little less pressure behind the eyes and started to notice that while Jeremy had his dad and Michael, no one really came to see me. Nobody from school, nobody from home. After a while, I stopped looking, and began to just enjoy Jeremy's guests.

Michael was a mystery to me. He was always wearing those huge-ass headphones, even when he wasn't listening to anything, and he always was looking into Jeremy's eyes as if the moment he looked away, Jeremy would be gone. I don't think I've ever looked at anyone that way, much less have anyone give that look to me. I wonder if they're dating. Somebody should be comfortable in his or her sexuality, I suppose.

"Hey, nice dicks," a voice snickered behind me. Apparently my scribbling had gotten noticeably larger as I had ceased to pay attention to what I was drawing. The bell rang and chaos ensued as 20 students clambered around, trying to get their papers together so they wouldn't get caught up in hall traffic.

"They're not dicks," I muttered under my breath. I didn't think anyone heard me, but one straggler answered me.

"Those are oak trees right?" I look up to see who was actually listening to me. It was headphones boy. Michael.

"Um…" I didn't know how to answer. They looked like a specific tree? "Yes? No? I don't know? I wasn't drawing a certain kind of tree, to be honest," I confessed. "I was just doodling because this class sucks."

Michael laughed. It was a laugh that could satisfy hunger if you ate it. Warm and full.

"Well, you're really good at it." His eyes sparkled as though he handed out words of encouragement for an after-school snack. "Keep it up, I gotta catch up with Jeremy. See you around, Goranski."

"Yeah, thee ya—"

I choke back words as I watch Michael's backpack bob away. What the actual hell—I have a lisp? I haven't had that for like seven months. Not since I had gotten my squip.

Well shit. Now that I don't have my squip, everything we had worked on together was going down the garbage chute? Not only would my speaking skills leave me, but also my social status and my wooing abilities? I suppose so. Nobody who has had a lisp has ever been popular. It's science. I was going back to the bottom of the food chain.

The library was quiet when I walked in. I half expected the math club to be there at least, but they were apparently using a different part of the school. They probably decided to set up shop in one of the social studies classrooms; they were always huge for some reason.

For now, though, nobody was checking out books or reading or making out in here, and that was the way I liked it. I was able to study for this huge test I had due tomorrow in my AP Literature class that I couldn't fail or I would flunk the class. My parents had been riding my ass all semester to keep up with my classes, which I was having a difficult time with because I was skipping so much. Now that I didn't have squip to even help me study, this was going to be a lot of work. I knew I could do it though. I'm Rich, cool and capable as ever. Believing it was the easy part. Convincing my peers to believe it, well, that was going to be harder than acing this test.


	3. Locker Banter

Michael's POV

I couldn't find Jeremy anywhere. He was probably sucking on Christine's face. It was weird; I didn't like the fact that I didn't see my best friend as much as I used to, but the fact that it was Christine made it a little better. I didn't want to be a wet blanket, and she was pretty chill, so all three of us were able to hang out and it wasn't uncomfortable or anything. I don't know. I was ok with it I guess.

 _Ding._

It was a text. I snatch my phone out of my pocket eagerly, wondering who could be trying to reach me, hoping it was Jeremy. Signal was sketchy in our school, and the Wi-Fi was basically non-existent, so communication of any kind electronically was relished.

It was Jeremy. _Meet me in the library. I'll see you at 3:30._ I look up at one of the many clocks in the hallway. 3:15 – that gives me enough time to grab my homework from first period from my locker before going to the library. I make my way through the clumps of students who could just stand around and talk because they didn't take the bus, and find Rich shuffling through his locker.

"Hey, Rich." I ease in next to him, fiddling with the combination to open my locker. He jumps, but relatively unhurt. Benefits of being short, I guess.

"Oh, hey, Michael." He pauses. "How are you?"

"Ok, I guess, since like five minutes ago." I laugh. "We were literally just in class together, Goranski."

Rich started to turn red, laughing nervously. "Ha, oh yeah, I forgot. School, wipes your memory, am I right?" He finds whatever he's looking for and stuffs it in his backpack.

"Late for the bus?" I can't find my homework, but it doesn't really bother me. It was just reading, and I'm pretty good at joining in discussions even when I have no clue on what the topic is about.

"Nah, I'm juth—I mean, I'm heading to the library." Rich was getting more and more flustered. I grab his arm and he freezes. "Breathe, Rich. It's ok." I want to chuckle, but I force it down, unsure how Rich would react to my laughing at his expense. Three seconds pass, and he pulls away.

"Bye, Michael."

I watch him walk off. I don't know what's gotten into him, but if he's trying to avoid me, he went the wrong way. I check my watch—3:25. Time to meet Jeremy.

Rich's POV

I had just settled down in one of those huge comfy chairs when I reached for my backpack and I realized that the anthology I needed to study for the test wasn't there. I began to panic, trying to think over where the last place I had used it. There weren't any other copies I could use in the classroom, and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask one of my classmates if I could use one of theirs. I may be a nerd now, but I wasn't going to let anyone else know that.

 _Don't panic, Goranski_ , I tell myself. There is no need to panic. I'll just start where I most obviously left it last: my locker. Picking up my backpack and heading out the door, I just pray I don't have to look much farther.

There aren't very many people in the halls compared to when everyone's rushing to classes, but there's still enough where I have to make sure my posture is straight and I give off an aura that tells people I'm still in charge. I give a quick pull and my locker swings open—I never lock my locker anymore. If I show I don't fear anyone stealing my stuff, then I show that I'm at the top of the social ladder. That's what my squip said anyway. All I know is I subconsciously still feared theft, but I saved time not putting my combination in my lock every time, so I guess it balanced out. I stick my head in my locker, trying to find my stupid book. If this test grade didn't matter so much, I would just wing it, but that's what I did the past three tests, and I couldn't risk failing this class.

"Hey, Rich." My head was stuck in my locker, and I didn't expect anyone to talk to me now. Most people who were cool were at sports practice or…yeah, that's the only place they are. I used to play football, because the squip told me to, but once I had my own head back I quit because I just didn't enjoy it. I wanted to play video games all day, but now that my parents know I'm capable of athletic activity, they won't allow me to be a couch potato. Not that they could do much about it if I did. They'd probably just yell at me. Nothing I'm not used to.

"Oh, hey, Michael." I'm wondering how long he's been staring at me while I was thinking. "How are you?" _Shit. Didn't I just see him? I feel like I just asked him that question. Wrong question, Rich, wrong question._

Ok, I guess, since like five minutes ago." Michael laughs lightly. "We were literally just in class together, Goranski."

That's where I saw him. Fuck. "Ha, oh yeah, I forgot. School, wipes your memory, am I right?" I can feel sweat start building up in my palms. I wipe them on my jeans as I resume my search for my textbook. Why is that stupid textbook always getting lost? If I could keep my shit together, I wouldn't be having these problems. _If you could keep shit together, you wouldn't have needed an squip in the first place, would you, Rich?_ I find an old candy bar – the wrapper is so old the lettering is worn off, but it looks like a snickers, and I shove it in my bag.

"Late for the bus?" Michael nonchalantly slams his locker shut and shifts his backpack from one shoulder to the other. Dumbass probably knows where all his homework is.

"Nah, I'm juth—I mean, I'm heading to the library." I can't believe that my lisp came through just now. I'm going to have to guard my speech more carefully.

"Breathe, Rich. It's ok." I feel Michael's grip on my arm, and I freeze. His warmth spreads up to my shoulder, and I can feel a tingle traveling down my spine. His eyes seem to twinkle a bit, but realistically I think it's just the glare coming off his glasses. His brown eyes stare down at me as he encourages me to calm down. But I can't calm down. Not with him so close to me.

I pull away, hoping the awkward silence wasn't too long. "Bye, Michael." I need to go. I don't know where exactly; all I know is it needs to be where Michael is not.


	4. New Developments

Michael's pov

The library was empty when I got there. _Huh,_ _I wonder where Rich went. Guess he wasn't coming to the library after all._ I shrug. Slinking down into one of the overstuffed beanbags lining the wall, I almost wish I had homework to do while waiting for Jeremy. Oh well, I only have five minutes left. I can wait.

It's kind of weird how strange Rich has been behaving lately. I mean, I know he just got his brain back, in a sense, and maybe he doesn't quite know how to think for himself, but it's almost like he's scared of me, in a way. I'm many things, but I've never thought of myself as the type of person who was intimidating.

It's been a long day. Classes really wear me out; Rich was right, school does wipe your brain. Ugh.

"Michael. Boy, wake up." Jeremy throws his backpack on me. I'm pretty sure he's carrying Christine's books as well as his own. 

"Oh my God. I wasn't sleeping, bro!" I toss the backpack to the side, but can't help but laugh. It's not easy to stay mad at my best friend. "So what's up?"

"Michael, I have the craziest story to tell—"

 _Ding_. I pull my phone out of my pocket. It was a text. From Rich.

"Hey, keep talking, I'm listening." I pull up my messages and scan it for important content. _Homework…help…study session…_

"Michael, what do I do?" Jeremy looks at me expectantly and I realize that I had stopped listening to his story. I didn't even know the characters involved. My multitasking skills have really gone downhill.

"I wasn't listening, bro," (He starts protesting, but I hold my hand up to stop him) "but I got a text from Rich and I think we should help him out." I toss my phone to Jeremy so he can read the text and head out the door. He follows because if he doesn't come with me he has to walk home, and it's pretty cold outside.

Rich's POV

The sidewalk is littered with leaves as I make my way down the deserted street to my house. I normally drive, but my mom had taken the car for the day. It was only a few blocks away, anyway, and I left late enough in the day everybody who wasn't staying for extracurricular activities had left the schoolyard. Can a high school campus even be called a schoolyard anymore? I shiver as a chill lingers across my back from the winds that seemed especially crisp today. My shoulders were tense enough as it was from the stress of school, I didn't need this cold weather to add to it.

The living room lights were on when I got home. That's strange, especially since no one was supposed to be home until later tonight. Dad was usually at the bar until 10, and mom had some sort of book club she was going to. At least that's what she told me. That's why I fucking walked home. My jacket was too thin for me to let something like this pass by too lightly.

"Hello?" I open the door slowly. Now that I'm actually in the house, the thought that someone had trespassed into our house was starting to enter my mind. It wasn't the most plausible idea, but it made me a tad bit more cautious. "Hello? Mom, are you home?"

"Richard? Is that you?" An unfamiliar voice called out from the living room. It was female, and didn't sound threatening, and she knew my name, so maybe mom just forgot to tell me that this person was coming. I grabbed the mace from the basket by the door and slowly walked to the light.

The living room isn't really a living room. I mean, it's where we do most of our living, but it's rather small, and doesn't have carpet, cause it's basically the kitchen. Dad just put a T.V. and a couch in the small space that didn't contain the stove and refrigerator, and called that the "living room." I spend most of my time in my room, cause Dad only paid for the sports and news channels and those didn't interest me at all. I don't know why we have a television in the first place. Dad is never home, mom never uses it, and we don't even own a washing machine. Mom has to take all of our clothes to the laundry mat. A television is the last thing we _need_ , much less want, right now.

"Richard?" A face pops out from behind the wall that makes up part of the hall that leads to the bedrooms, and I almost spray mace into the face of a middle-aged woman who had traces of gray in her blonde-brown hair. It's stringy and looks like it's been dyed one-too-many times, but still relatively pretty regardless. The only problem with this assessment is I still had no clue who this woman was. She was saved by her quick reflexes, which enveloped me in a full bear hug, so I sprayed the mace into her shoulder rather than her eyes.

 _Who are you and what are you doing in my house?_ is what I want to say. Instead, it comes out as "Mmmmphmmmgh" due to the fact that my face was buried in her ample bosom. Normally I wouldn't complain about this, but she was older than I normally liked.

She sets me down with grace and agility surprising in a woman of her size, and brushes my arms off, even though there's nothing on them. "There, how's my nephew?"

"WHO ARE YOU?" I say a little louder than necessary, but I can't help the fact that my emotions are beginning to take over. My parents had never spoken of any siblings that they had, and all of my grandparents are dead, so we never visited extended family for holidays. I have absolutely no remembrance of an aunt, especially one that is supposed to visit now, specifically.

A puzzled look crossed over the woman's face as she searched my eyes, probably to see if I were bluffing or not. I wasn't.

"Your Dad didn't tell you I was coming?"

"Dad never told me she had a sister." I cross my arms, not willing to reveal any more information to her than she was revealing to me.

"I'm not your dad's sister." She sat down on the couch, and patted the cushion next to her. "Sit down, dear." I still wasn't too sure about this whole situation, but I sit down, figuring it was the only way to get her to talk.

"My name is Erin. You can call me that, if you'd like. I'm your mom's best friend from college. Yes, she went to college for one semester." She seemed to notice the incredulous look I gave her. Erin continued, "I was the only one who really tried to keep in touch with her after she left school, and we did everything together. I was in her wedding, she came to my graduation and we had drinks to celebrate the first time I completed a successful surgery. As time went on, though, we lost touch, even though we live so close. But I still love her deeply. That's why I was so torn to get a phone call about her accident; apparently I'm still her emergency contact."

"Wait, what—" I interrupt Erin. "What accident?"

"Did no one tell you about the accident." Erin's face started to drain of color, and her hands started trembling.

"No, Erin. Tell me what this is about. Now." I didn't want to assume the worst, but Erin's face was not helping me with that.

"Your mom got in a car accident this afternoon. It was – pretty brutal, but she seems to have gotten out with very few injuries considering the extent of the damage. I got a call about it, like I said, and I immediately went and saw her after calling your father. I'm assuming he's still at the hospital, but I wanted to come home and be here for you when you came home from school."

I just stared at the dark television screen. I didn't know how to process this. Mom was in a brutal car accident, but seemed ok. Dad was "apparently" at the hospital, but if I were a betting man, I'd put money on the fact that he was drinking away his feelings at the bar. This weird woman told me she was my mom's emergency contact, and now I have to deal with hospital bills as well my AP Literature exam.

I look over at Erin. "How long are you staying?"

"Until your mom can get back on her feet. I'm going to make sure you three want for nothing." She squeezes my shoulder, and I tense up even more.

"I think I can handle it. Thank you though," I force a smile, careful not to show too much teeth, like the squip had taught me months ago.

"Nonsense. And I'm going to start by enforcing a strict bedtime. You need to be rested for classes. Starting now, you need to have lights out by 10 pm, sharp." 

She has to be fucking with me. If she's not, I have no clue how I'm going to survive the night, much less however much time she feels Mom needs to recuperate. I pull out my phone and text the only person I can think of who would have nothing else going on right now.

 _If you're free, I could really use some help studying for my AP exam. Maybe we could have a study session tonight? – Rich_

Hurry, Michael.


	5. Update Soon!

Hey guys,

I am so, so sorry I haven't updated in a while, but with school and the holidays, I have been swamped. I am going to try my hardest to update this week. Thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy the story. :)


End file.
